


love

by timtom



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Consent Issues, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Oops, Prostitution, Sex Work, off screen sex, only mentions of pairings other than finnick/annie, started out as fluff ended up as angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timtom/pseuds/timtom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Finnick Odair is a Capitol hustler, a toy - it's how the Capitol sees him. But they can't tell Finnick Odair who to love; not really. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or</p><p>A character study because Catching Fire made me cry too hard too many times</p>
            </blockquote>





	love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I haven't read the books before so any information I get wrong is entirely my fault oops as are all typos

Finnick loves Annie.  

He really does. There’s no hidden meaning or ulterior motive, it’s as simple as it sounds. He loves her from the deepest part of his being, with everything he has, everything he has left. Not that there’s much left to offer, but it doesn’t make a difference to Annie, because she loves him just as much, with whichever part of her still left that is still stable.

He loves her brown hair like it’s the light of the sun, and when she hugs him and it still smells faintly like flowers, just like the rest of her. It smells like flowers when the rest of the world smells like death, and rotting fish, and stale blood and vomit. Because that’s what the world is now if you don’t live in the Capitol. The rest of District 4 doesn’t seem to see it, but Finnick does. He’s seen what the rest of the world is like.

He loves her green eyes like they’re the only greenery left on the earth, the only trees and shrubs not charred by fire or stained by blood, the only shade of green in the sea, a deep colour reserved for only the most magical parts, like those places Finnick used to sail to when he was still too young to be reaped. It’s green like it’s a precious and fragile sapling in dead earth, like she was a hope that the Capitol hasn’t caught sight of yet. Even if sometimes she covers her ears and squeezes her eyes shut and crouches down low, shivers so violently that he can’t hold her still, she’s still so radiant and beautiful that sometimes it takes his breath away.

He loves her laugh like it’s a lifeboat to a drowning man. It’s a sound that can drive out the rest of the Hunger Games memories, even if he can’t return the favour. It drives out the tang of blood and sea water on his tongue, and the feel of blood mixed in with sea water on his fingers, and the visions of blood in the sea water around him. He doubts it is any better in the other Districts, or for any of the other surviving victors. Her laugh sparks aglow something wonderful in a dark pit filled with despair and hopelessness, waiting until you were reaped and taken out of the pit and thrown into the fire.

Finnick loves Annie, he really does, but as far as the Capitol is concerned, Finnick loves who they want him to love.

Finnick’s objected before, in the beginning; tried to struggle and successfully fought off whoever they sent in to ‘convince' him. But President Snow brings it to Finnick’s attention that Annie is in fact, a very vulnerable and accessible woman, as is every other person he cares about, so Finnick hands himself over, willingly, to protect the only things in his life that matter to him. He doesn’t matter when it comes down to it; not really. If it had come to them threatening to kill him, he would’ve gritted his teeth and told them to go ahead – but they know how to get to people, they always do.

So they sell him, like a common whore, to people who can afford it – men and women, groups, even. Sometimes they’re gentle – sometimes the women treat him like glass, and lovingly kiss every inch of him before they demand a reciprocate gesture. Sometimes they just want to make love, and sometimes they let him talk and say what he wants. Sometimes the men actually prepare him properly first, or lets him do it himself, at his own pace. Sometimes they don’t even want to fuck him, sometimes he gets to top. Very rarely, they just want to touch, and feel, but not enter.

But sometimes they’re not gentle, not at all. Sometimes they’re harsh – sometimes the women hit him, want to test the limits of someone who’s killed 23 other children at the age of fourteen. Sometimes they leave long red lines down his back, his shoulders, wherever they can reach with their nails. Sometimes all Finnick can taste is blood, sometimes he gets covered in it, and it’s only his own, never someone else’s. Sometimes Finnick earns bruises – bruises he doesn’t deserve. Bruises along his neck, his arms, etched into the skin of his hips. Sometimes they restrain him – holds down a Hunger Games champion with ropes or belts or fabric, and hurt him from the inside out, because that’s what does it for people nowadays, in the secluded and protected world of the Capitol. Sometimes they want to hear about it – _what’s it like being in the Hunger Games? What does it feel like to kill someone? How did you feel when you were reaped? How did it feel when you won? Did it hurt? Did you cry? Do you still think about it?_

Finnick thinks he knows how Annie feels then, how she would cover her ears and exit this version of reality to keep herself from remembering and falling apart, and that’s what hurts him inside, where no one can save him. He wants to shut it out and have someone hold him and tell him instead about how it’s okay. But no one can – that’s his job.

But every time, every damn time they send him back with a handful of expensive gifts, as if that’s what the remedy is – money. Well, they’re wrong, because the remedy is never something they can give him.

The remedy is Annie.

 It’s returning to Annie and having her wrap her arms around him, and smelling those flowers, and seeing that green, and hearing that laugh as he makes a joke and tells her not to worry as she washes his wounds, and wraps him up, and having her kiss him, and kissing her back, and knowing that her and Mags and everyone he loves will be safe for one more night, and trying not to grimace as he sits down, or bends over, or stretches to reach something. It’s holding Annie as she falls asleep and smelling those flowers, and knowing he’ll see that green in the morning, and listening to her breathing evening out and feeling her heartbeat against his own chest. It’s Annie and it’s real love, and it’s home.

It’s something the Capitol can’t take from him, not unless they try. And Finnick won’t give them the chance to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> rebloggable version here: [http://moonypond.tumblr.com/post/69681618368/love]


End file.
